Guardians of Ga'Hoole 04 - The Siege

about Hortenssse and her dreamsss. She sssseees the truth sssssometimesss in her ssssleep. What she dreamsss often happensss.”
    And then Soren realized that what he dreamed had happened. The moon-faced owl in his dream that had appeared with Kludd was the same one that had appeared in his dream, first as a spider and then as the owl who spoke those frightening words, “A bit of your own medicine.” Had his and Hortense’s dreams somehow collided? Had they flown in their sleep into some shared dreamscape? Had their imaginations blended in this story of death and destruction?
    But now he sensed that something was still not right. This owl who flew with Kludd had killed. He just knew it. She had come with a streak of blood across her face.
    “It seems so quiet,” Soren said.
    “Is it over?” Martin wondered aloud. Was the siege finally over?
    At that moment Gylfie and Twilight flew onto the ledges under the cliff.
    “Is it over?” Martin asked again.
    “We think so,” Twilight replied. “But the Strix Struma Strikers suffered some heavy losses.”
    “Losses?” Martin said weakly.
    “Not Ruby, not Otulissa?” Soren said.
    “Not Ruby or Otulissa.” Digger had just flown onto the ledge of the cliffs. “But Strix Struma has been killed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A New Constellation Rises
    O tulissa’s face was stony. Her white spots stood out like small hard pebbles.
    “Do you think she’s going to be all right, Soren?” Eglantine whispered. “You know how much she loved Strix Struma.”
    “I think so.” He really wasn’t sure, but he wanted to reassure his younger sister. He was worried. They were all worried about Otulissa. The young Spotted Owl had been flying beside her commander when Strix Struma was struck. It was talon-to-talon fighting, but within the first few blows, the enemy had ripped a tremendous gouge at the point where the primary feathers joined the body. Strix Struma’s wing was almost severed and completely useless, but still she flew. Otulissa counterattacked bravely and managed to land a slashing blow across the attacker’s face.
    “I tried to save her,” Otulissa told them when they visited her in her hollow. She kept repeating those words.
    Digger, Twilight, Soren, and Gylfie didn’t know what tosay. Then Mrs. Plithiver slithered in. “Otulissa, my dear, she did not want to be saved. What kind of a life would she have had with one wing? Could she have continued to lead the navigation chaw? Could she have commanded her brave Strix Struma Strikers? She had led a full life. She was old. She was ready. She died fighting for a great cause. Try not to fret, dear.”
    As comforting as the words had sounded to the other owls, Soren knew they had done nothing to relieve Otulissa’s grief. And now as they gathered for the Final Ceremony, as the rites for a dead owl were called, he could see that Otulissa did not feel any better. Her utter stillness was unnerving. If he had not known better, he would have thought she had been carved in stone.
    Meanwhile, a mere ten or twelve feet away on the balcony in the Great Hollow, Dewlap sobbed convulsively. “I never thought. I never thought,” she kept sputtering. Now Otulissa moved. She swung her head around and puffed up in fury. “No, you never thought!” she hissed.
    Then Barran flew to the highest perch. “We come to pay tribute today to a great Spotted Owl, Strix Struma. Although she and I were different species, we were sisters bound in our love of freedom and the pure joy of the pursuit of the knowledge of the stars that cycle endlessly, season upon season, in our night skies. It was from dear StrixStruma, our navigation ryb, that I first learned about the “eyes of glaumora,” as we often call the stars. It is the hideous fury of war that has brought her end, though one cannot call it an untimely death, for she had a long and a vigorous life.” Barran continued to speak most lovingly about her long friendship with the Spotted Owl, and then it was Ezylryb’s turn.
    “Her Majesty Barran spoke of the hideous fury of war that brought down our beloved soldier Strix Struma. She died with her claws on. You have heard Barran refer to Strix Struma as her sister, and I am glad she did this. For we have just been fighting a war that was instigated by the vile notion that declares that some breeds of owls are better than others, are more pure. Not one of us shall ever again say the word ‘pure’ or ‘purity’ without thinking